


Maybe She's a Gentleman in Disguise

by absolutenihilist, Theo Calder (absolutenihilist)



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-09-14 18:58:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16918494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absolutenihilist/pseuds/absolutenihilist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/absolutenihilist/pseuds/Theo%20Calder
Summary: Sarah "Sparrow" Grey, a young woman living in the city Saint Denis, 1899. She came from Australia, with her rich father and older brothers several years ago, and all was going well - until she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.After being kidnapped by Colm O'Driscoll, she finds herself with a fellow captive, and they escape together. Does Sarah have what it takes to survive? Does she find her way home to her family, or does she find a new one?





	1. I

_You know someone's watching you watching me watching you_  
_And all that we look upon_  
_You may not know me but you feel my stare_

 

I closed my book, and placed it by my bedside table. It was in German, and good for practice - I hadn't done a lot of German lately, as I had been busy focusing on Italian. I was proficient in several languages, as Father wanted me to be his translator when he was doing work deals. I didn't quite know what his job was - all I knew was that it was to do with the Government, and it gave him a lot of money. 

I was fluent in French, German, Chinese and English, and I was learning Italian. Father most likely wanted me to be able to speak to Angelo Bronte, someone popular in town - an Italian man who seemed to have a lot of power in this awful city. 

As much as I loved learning, I wish I didn't live in the city. The air was awful, and I couldn't wear clothes I was comfortable in; Father would be disappointed in me if I didn't look respectable in society, so I wore the gaudy, ugly dresses that one could barely breathe in. 

My social life was awful too - he wanted me to find friends, but there was no woman easily found that I could hold a conversation with. They talked about men, rumours, and scandals - I had no mind for any of that nonsense. I wanted to discuss literature, music, and art, but only men were scholarly enough to talk to, and Father didn't want me having a husband yet. Not that I wanted one anyway, but nonetheless it was inevitable. 

I shook my head to clear my thoughts and went downstairs, into the kitchen. In the pantry I found some meat I could take to the stray dogs that lived in the alleyway down the street. It broke my heart to see the creatures, their ribcages sticking out from their matted, dirty coats. I tried to feed them as much as I could, but there was no way Father would allow these creatures near me, let alone in the house or on the property. 

There were three of them - two female Bluetick Coonhounds, Atlantic and Atlas, and a male Australian Shepherd. I was particularly close to the Australian Shepherd I had named Miro - he had links to the past I longed for. The past in Australia, and Miro... Poor boy. I miss him still.

I got to the alleyway, and smiled as the dogs ran up to me. I gave them the meat, which they ate quickly. Going to where I hid the old horse brush, I sat on the dirt and groomed the dogs, until they were less dirty. I patted them, and made them feel loved. I had left them a blanket for them to sleep on, too - it was slightly dirty, but under a shelter that would help them. I wanted to simply get on my horse and run away with the three dogs, but there was nowhere for me. I had little money of my own, it was Father who spent most of his money on my brothers and I. 

After staying with the strays for a good hour, I brushed myself off and wandered down the street aimlessly. Soon, it was evening, and I always enjoyed evening walks, so I didn't bother going home. Father knew I enjoyed my walks, and it was the one liberty I really had. As much as I loved learning, and reading, a quiet city was my kind of city. Or, well, no city at all.

I simply let my mind wander, and failed to notice something important. I was being followed. Regardless, I could feel someone staring, but when I looked, there was no one there. I didn't worry about it. 

I was too deep into my own thoughts, and after heading into the darkness between street lamps, I was dragged from behind. A hand covered my mouth, and I tried to fight. My hands were bound, and I was gagged with a dirty cloth. It tasted awful, and I tried not to vomit in my mouth. I was struck on the head, and I collapsed.

Every now and then I would feel myself moving. It was awful - sometimes I saw the ground, sometimes I saw the ground moving quickly. Then, it would all go black. 


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER WARNING - YOU'LL NEED TO GO TO THE PART WHERE THE FIRST THREE OR SO WORDS ARE BOLDED AND UNDERLINED, THEN READ FROM THERE.

_Here's where gentlemen avert their eyes,_

_Maybe she's a gentleman in disguise,_

_In disguise._

The first thing I felt when I woke up was pain. A lot of it. Mostly in my head, but also my wrists and ankles. 

I opened my eyes a few moments later panicked. This was not my bedroom.

A metal pole dug into my back, and my arms were behind the pole, tied with rope - it stung. I was in a basement of some kind, with stairs a few steps ahead of me, to my right.

Voices carried from the top of the stairs, and I choked on my sob when two men dragged a third, beaten, unconscious male into the room and setting a lantern on the ground. They tied him to the ceiling, dangling by his feet, and he looked awful. He must have been shot in the shoulder, and his face had a few bruises on it. One of the men looked at me with hunger in his eyes.

"Boss said not to touch her yet." He nudged the other male towards the stairs, and looked at me with pity in his eyes. He seemed familiar, but I didn't recognise him. Regardless, I was a tad grateful. They took the lamp with them, and I was sitting in the dim space, this time not alone. 

The male suspended by his feet seemed to have stirred, but didn't wake. I sat silently, peering into the darkness for a method of escape, however, I was on the ground, and couldn't see onto the table - or well at all. The squeaking of doors opening and the warm light of a lantern entering the basement relieved and terrified me. The suspended male was breathing heavily and unevenly.

Slower, more deliberate footsteps came down the stairs. Another man came in. He had shoulder length grey hair, and was wearing fairly nice clothing - vest, dress shirt, and tie, and was holding a plate that smelled like stew. He spoke.

"Arthur Morgan. It's good to see ya." He put the lantern down, and the male I now knew was named Arthur groaned.

"Hello, Colm." He coughed. 

"How's the wound?" 

"I can barely feel it."

"You will..." There was a struggle that I couldn't quite see. "It ain't nice. Now, tell me... Fine gun like you... Why are you still running around with old Dutch? Could come ride with me and make real money."

"It ain't about the money, Colm." 

"Oh, no... it's Dutch's famous charisma." He raised his voice and kicked Arthur in the side, who swung side to side. I flinched. "You killed a whole bunch of my boys at Six Point Cabin."

"I ain't got no clue what you're talking about."

"Oh, you lie, my friend..." The silver of a pistol shone in the lamplight, and it clicked as it was loaded. "And I thought Dutch preached the truth." The suspended male must have seen me, as he paled even further.

"Let me go, Colm, and end all this crap between you two. We all got real problems now." 

"The way I see it, they get him, they forget about me."

"They ain't the forgetting sort. If I were you, I'd run as soon as I got the money."

"Oh, I know you would... But see, we lure an angry Dutch to come rescue ya, grab all of ya and hand ya in, then disappear."

"So you only met with him to grab me?"

"Of course. He's gonna be so mad." He sounded excited, and it sickened me to my stomach. "He gonna come raging over here, with a whole lot of ya, and the law'll be waiting for him. Oh, Arthur." He laughed. "Arthur, I missed you." The silver shone in the light as it spun in a circle. 

He began beating the male, in the stomach, holding his gun. I tried to move, but there was no way I could. It happened, again and again, until the man turned to face me. "And this one, Miss Grey. I hope your daddy loves you, because if he doesn't come to get you, his pretty little daughter might find herself a new career in prostitution." He was caressing my presumably sticky face from my tears. "Don't cry, girlie, it doesn't hurt too much." He touched my upper thigh, and after a few seconds, moved away.

He took the lantern and left. The male named Arthur was coughing and wheezing while this was happening. There was, this time, a dim lamplight. He began looking around, and having spotted something on the table, began swinging from his shackles. I looked closer, and saw it was some kind of file. He rammed it into the lock a few times, and after a few times, a thump and a grunt followed. He got up shakily, and removed the gag from my mouth. 

"Miss... Grey? We're-" He coughed. "We're gonna get out of here, okay? Let me cut you free." He went to my arms and began sawing at the ropes with the file. After a bit, I felt them drop off, and I immediately helped Arthur to the chair.

"We need to get that bullet out of you... I don't really know how, though, I'm sorry..." You began panicking.

"Just don't look, alright? Pass me that shotgun shell when I ask you to, and that lantern." I picked the two items up, and peeked at Arthur. He was digging into his shoulder with the file, eventually getting the bullet out. "Open the shell." I picked it open, and handed it to him. "Lantern." I handed it to him, and looked at him. "Now I need something to-" I passed him the gag I had, which was hanging around my neck. "Thanks. This'll sound bad, so try not to pay attention to me, alright?" I nodded and turned around, when I realised what he was going to do. I moved back to him, and held his left hand in two of my own. He clearly hadn't realised, and put the hot file on the gunpowder and flesh, letting out a groan and squeezing my hands so much they would probably bruise - I was fine with it, as it meant I had at least helped him a bit.

"Right, I need to get my sh-stuff. Follow me, and try not to make any noise." He got up gingerly and crouched down, sneaking up the stairs. I followed him, but paused to take off my corset and petticoat, leaving it on the stairs behind me. He was waiting at the top, and he told me to wait by a bunch of crates. I watched, ducking down when a guard's gaze was closer than I liked. Arthur had a satchel and weapons, and we snuck out of the camp, to where a horse was hitched. I presumed it was his, as he whispered "Hello girl." to it when he approached her. She looked like an Ardennes - similar to my Rouge at home, just blue roan instead of red roan. Arthur helped me onto the saddle, and we rode out of there.

Arthur murmured "Home, girl, home." and didn't say anything else for a while. He slumped forward suddenly, and I leaned over him, taking the reins, mostly so I felt I had some control in the situation that I didn't really have anyway. His horse still soldiered on, over hills, through creeks and forests, and eventually we ended up on a red dirt path. The moon was full, allowing for some light, so I could see. The horse was going between cantering and galloping, and slowed as it turned down a path, trotting into a camp. 

 **"H-help!" I stammered,** as loud as my voice usually went - which wasn't very loud. I was quiet, and barely shouted. "E-excuse me?" I called out again, louder this time. I was approached by a red-haired male.

"It's Arthur! Everyone, get up!" He shouted, pulling Arthur from his horse gently. Several people emerged, and a well dressed man as well as several women came forward, helping the man.

"Arthur, son! Miss Grimshaw, Abigail, please help Arthur to his tent and attend to his injuries." He looked stressed, and looked up to me. "And who are you?"

I froze, and as an almost instant response spoke the first thing on my mind - in German. "Mein name ist Sarah Grau."

The well dressed male looked confused, but beckoned an older man with round spectacles over. "Translate, please. I think she's speaking German." 

"Mein name ist Strauss, sie sind?"

"Mein name ist Sarah Grau, wer bist du alle?" I used the German word for grey again. I realised I was still on the horses' back, and slid off, patting her neck. The spectacled man explained who they were, a gang known as the 'Van der Linde' and what the situation was. I told him a bit about me, and he allowed me to sleep in a spare bedroll in his tent. I struggled to sleep, and didn't for some time. As soon as there was enough light, I got up, even though I barely slept. 

I actually quite liked Strauss, and we had quite a few conversations about literature and music, and I told him I spoke French, Chinese and some Italian, very little English - he offered to teach me more, so that was a positive I suppose, but I had an act to keep up now. He also told me that once I learned more English, I would be able to speak to Dutch - who I learned was the well dressed man - we could discuss more literature, music and art, as he was well learned. Interesting, for an outlaw. 

I wanted to go home, but at the same time, I finally was out of the city. I could easily leave the money behind for a life of freedom, but I also wanted safety and my books. 

As soon as I could, I would get out of here. I just needed some good clothing, and a horse. 

"Komm her!" Strauss called out to me. I approached him, and he held out a dress for me. "Das ist für dich." I looked at it, then shook my head. "Aber danke, hast du ersatzkleidung für männer?"

He told me to wait, and returned with what I wanted - pants, an undershirt and a blue plaid overshirt. "Danke." I thanked him and went into the trees to change, returning more comfortable. The dress I had been wearing, a pale blue one made of some fine silk was covered in dust, mud and blood, and the petticoat and corset were gone - it was barely even good anymore, so I threw it onto one of the fires, which was still going. It burned, and I felt a weight being lifted from my shoulders. I was in comfortable clothing, but all I needed was a haircut. 

"Hast du eine schere?" I asked Strauss. He passed me a pair of scissors, and found a reflective surface. There, I cut my hair short, until the long, curled, mousy brown locks were by my feet. I picked them up, and dug a hole with my boot heel, burying them. I had naturally curly hair, but it was always straightened and curled again to be "nice curls, not wild ones", to quote my bossy Aunt Caroline. She was generally in charge of how I looked, but she allowed for me to wear my comfortable riding boots, as I could run and actually walk in them - after I broke my ankle in heels, she gave up. I'm too clumsy. 

I could feel the stares of many in camp when I returned, and the whispers of the women in particular as they comment on my haircut. I ignored them - I didn't care for their opinions, as I barely knew them. For the first time in a long time, I was comfortable and happy with my appearance. That wasn't going to change because of the scrutiny of others. 

"Wo befindet sich Arthur?" I approached Strauss. He didn't look up from his work in his ledgers, and pointed to a tent that I noticed had a large amount of ammunition around it. "Danke." I approached it carefully - he was lying awake. When he saw me, he smiled softly and sat up slightly. He was still pale, and had dark bags under his eyes. 

"Hello, Miss Grey. I heard you don't speak a lot of English, huh?" He winced as his shoulder moved. I was surprised he recognised me at all.

"Yes. I talk... small English." I said in the heaviest German accent I could. 

"Well... I'm sorry about Colm, and what you saw. You didn't deserve to see that." He apologised, his tone also indicating it. I simply nodded. Arthur tried to reach to his bedside table to get a cup of water, and I passed it to him. "Thanks." He murmured before drinking. Some of the clear water spilled down his chin, and I passed him a cloth to wipe his hand with. We swapped, and I placed his metal cup back onto the table, then taking the cloth from him and placing it by the cup. 

"Ich wünschte, ich könnte sprechen Englisch." I muttered, sitting on a barrel by Arthur. It was more said in the sense that I wished I hadn't gone through with the 'German girl that speaks many languages but not English', and could speak it. I wanted to hold a conversation with Arthur, and the rest of the people here, but the only person I really could talk to was Strauss - he was alright, but oftentimes too busy for me. I didn't like being a nuisance - it made me anxious, and I wasn't sure if what I was doing would be helpful - I had to pretend to barely understand anyone, so tone of voice and body language were the things I had to rely on. All I needed was a horse, and then I would go. 

As I sat there, Arthur nodded off to sleep. Without realising, I began to sing Ave Maria softly, and I itched to get my hands on an instrument, particularly a piano or guitar. When I sung the last line and opened my eyes, Arthur was looking at me, impressed and smiling softly again. "That was good. Uh, sing something else?" He asked, hoping I understood. I nodded and began another song - Donna Non Vidi Mai, from Manon, a musical one of my brothers' love interests took part in. Though it was usually sung by a tenor, I had a large enough range for that, and could sing it easily. 

Arthur fell asleep to my singing, and I was startled by a tap on the shoulder. Turning around, it was the older woman who seemed to be in a constant bad mood. She had dark hair with grey streaks in it, and a slightly wrinkled face - she was tough, and though she seemed terrifying, probably would have befriended my mother, if she knew her. 

"What're- You got him to sleep. How did-" She caught herself, probably remembering I 'didn't speak English'. She nodded at me, and gestured for me to leave, presumably to change his bandages and check on his wounds. 

For the rest of the day, I helped Strauss, doing a lot of calculations for him and I organised his papers so he could find them easily. 

Night fell, and I was reading a book of Strauss' he had lent me - it was a book I had already read before, but anything was valued. I sat by the lamplight, absorbed in the work, until I was approached by Strauss and the older woman. 

"Kannst du singen, Arthur bitte schlafen? Er hat Miss Grimshaw davon erzählt und er kann nicht sonst schlafen." I nodded and put the book down on the table, remembering the page number. Going back over to Arthur's tent, with Strauss and the woman, Miss Grimshaw, I sat on the barrel again. 

"H-hello." I stammered softly.

"Can you tell her to sing to him? He needs a good rest." Miss Grimshaw said to Strauss. He translated for me, and I nodded. I thought of several songs, and sung them in a few different languages - a couple in Chinese, but mostly French and Italian, some Latin. I knew very little German songs to sing, and I forgot that Strauss and Miss Grimshaw were there. By the time I realised Arthur was asleep, a small crowd had formed behind me - when I turned around, I was surprised. Many were nodded and praising my voice, and I bowed. 

"Thank you." I said in English. It was then, I knew, that though the people in this gang were whispering about me this morning, I had earned some respect from them. 

When everyone had disbanded, something hit my back. I turned back to Arthur's tent, and saw he was gesturing me closer. I stood beside him, and he took one of my hands in his. 

"Thank you, Miss Grey. You are very talented, and I hope someday we can talk and understand each other." He made direct eye contact with me, but for once, I didn't squirm under the intensity of his ocean eyes. He let go of my hand, and nodded off to sleep, and so I went back to my bedroll and followed suit.


	3. III

_I know it's hard to be an optimist,  
When you trust least the ones who claim to have the answers._

A couple of weeks passed. I 'learned' enough English to hold a basic conversation with everyone, and I learned who everyone was. I got on well with most of the gang, though Micah in particular I didn't like, and though Dutch was interested in literature and things we could converse about, I disagreed with his ideas and oftentimes answers to questions the gang members had. There were others I was neutral towards - we weren't cruel to each other, but we weren't always talking either. Not that I could talk too much, but according to Strauss, I was "learning English at an amazing rate". 

Most of my time was spent helping Strauss, looking after Jack, and tidying around camp. I didn't feel like I contributed enough, and I wanted to learn to hunt, so I could at least bring something useful to camp.

Arthur was fully healed at this point, and I even went with Arthur and Sadie into a nearby town called Rhodes, where I managed to get a couple of books.

As we were going back, we were stopped by a large group of men who were clearly robbing us. 

"Stop! This is Lemoyne Raider territory! Give us your valuables, now!" One man shouted, his voice familiar somehow. 

"Keep your head low, Miss Grey." Sadie said quietly, loud enough for me to hear. The hammers of guns could be heard clicking, and the explosive sound of gunfire could be heard. I stayed down, but when a calloused hand grabbed my ankle, I tried holding onto things to try and fight back, but when I saw the face I stopped. 

"Ollie?" I whispered. He looked like my mother - same grey eyes and red curls with her face shape.

"Sparrow?" It was him. "I never thought I'd see you again." Unlike me, his Australian accent was more prominent, as it wasn't trained out of him. "I'll be right back." He left the wagon. "Stop firing! Retreat!" He called. The firing was lesser, only two sets could be heard, presumably Arthur and Sadie. 

I slid from the wagon and embraced my brother. "Who the hell is this?" Arthur and Sadie had their rifles pointed at Ollie.

"My brother... Do not shoot." I pushed the warm barrels of their guns away. Ollie looked confused.

"I'm meant to be German and can't understand English very well. Tell them you were adopted by my family." I whispered into his ear as we embraced again, and we pulled apart.

"Her family adopted me when they were in Australia. Her father could speak English, and he taught me some German." He explained. The other two narrowed their eyes, but got back onto the wagon.

"He can't come with us." I waited until Ollie said some gibberish that sounded like German. He paused, as if trying to remember. I whispered into his ear again.

"Sorry, brother. They don't trust easily. Write letters and address them to Alice Brown, I'll get them when we go into town." I hugged him one last time, and got onto the wagon. We smiled, happy that we saw each other again, and as Arthur drove, we stared at each other until he was no more then a speck in the distance. He was different to how I remembered him - his hair was longer, and he seemed... more worn down then I remembered. He used to be more lively, and full of energy. We used to go out and explore the surrounding desert, or we would hang around the stables and pet the horses, until he was old enough to be able to protect me in case a dingo or snake came too close, and then we would go on rides.

The sound of the horses hooves thudding on the dirt path and the sound of the wagon moving was all that could be heard, until we got closer to camp. Arthur and Sadie began talking about something, but I wasn't listening - only thinking of Ollie, and my mother. 

The wagon stopped just outside camp, and I slid off the back. Getting the supplies off the back, I put them tidily in the places Pearson pointed, until it was empty. Pearson thanked me, and I nodded in response. I went into my tent, which I had set up further away from everyone else, and sat on my bedroll. I found a pen and paper, and wrote part of my first letter to Ollie.

It was mostly about how much I missed him, and how I had gotten myself into the situation I was in - leaving out the torturing details, and saying I had just been held for ransom by a man I didn't know the name of, and that nothing major happened. I hated lying to people, my brother in particular, but there weren't many other options. Ollie got protective easily, and often got overprotective to the point where he had to be with someone all the time, and he got anxious easily also, staying awake for days. It wasn't good for him, and I didn't want to worry him. 

"Was schreiben sie?" Strauss asked me. I told him I was writing some story ideas I had thought of. "Interessant. Nun, habe ich einige Zeit, um Englisch zu unterrichten." I got up, folded the paper and put it into a secure place, my pants pocket, and went to Strauss' table. 

He was teaching me more advanced English, when Dutch came towards us. "You both are here, excellent. Strauss, could you translate please?" Strauss nodded. "Miss Grey, we are-" Hoofbeats could be heard as they slowed by camp.

Arthur approached Dutch. "I was about to go out fishing with Jack, when Pinkertons found us. They wanted me to hand you over, Dutch."

"We need to move, to make us harder to track. Excuse me." Dutch got up and left. "Everyone, we're moving again!" Miss Grimshaw and Pearson were beginning to order everyone, who were packing up frantically. After having everything explained to me quickly by Strauss, he said Dutch wanted me to go with Charles and Arthur to find a new campsite. I nodded, and Strauss told me I could ride Uncle's horse, which made me happy - I hadn't ridden a horse in a while, and it always made me happy. 

Uncle's horse was a black sabino Kentucky Saddler stallion, who was quite friendly. I rode towards Arthur and Charles, who nodded for me to follow them. 

We rode for a while, before going towards a lake - Flat Iron Lake, I recalled. We rode along the road, and Charles found a path that lead to a somewhat old dock, by the lake. 

"Here's good. Arthur, if you and Miss Grey stay here, then I can go tell the others where we are." I nodded, and Arthur slid from his horse, and sat with his back against a tree. I hitched Uncle's horse to a nearby tree.

"So you've gone from living a very good, pampered life to living in the dirt like the rest of us. How are you liking it so far?" It was a genuine question that he knew I understood, and it made me angry.

"My life was in no way pampered. I had to wear awful clothing and wore awful powders on my face. I had to be someone I hated, and I never had friends because all of the women liked gossiping when I wanted to talk about literature. I had no freedom, and probably would have been forced into a marriage I didn't want and bear children I didn't want either. So, cowboy, don't think that I lived a good life. I'd rather live like this then I did before." I, for the first time in a long, long time, snapped. He looked taken aback, and I realised what I did. "Shit." I muttered.

"You've been lying to us?" Arthur said darkly. 

"Y-yes." I said stammered, quietly. 

"I thought so..." He sighed. "Can you tell me who you really are?" I sat near him.

"I suppose..." I told him my history, and sighed once I had finished. "If you want to tell Dutch, it's fine. I don't mind. I'll just live on my own-"

"I won't do that." Arthur cut me off. "As much as I hate lying, you explained yourself and I understand. I just don't think most of the others would. Also, Dutch has been starting to go crazy... He could kill you if he decided you were a threat, and the others could too if they wanted to." My blood ran cold as Arthur said that.

"Oh my..." You said quietly. 

"Don't worry about it, I won't tell them. You helped me, after all, I do think I owe you." I looked at him. "When you sang for me, it helped me sleep, and I needed that to heal properly. Thanks for that." He smiled at me.

"You're welcome. I'm not that good, though." I murmured. 

"You're talented, Miss Grey. I think you need to realise that. You know more languages then I know English, and you're a damn good actress for being able to fool everyone." His smile was softer now.

"Call me Sparrow. Not around the others, of course, but when it's just us, I don't mind." We sat there for a while, talking about our lives. The sounds of more talking, hoofbeats and wagons moving indicated the others were close. I stood up, as did Arthur. 

Once things were set up, it was near dark. Everyone was tired, and we all went to rest. The moment I lay down in my bedroll I slept.

**I was with my brother again. We went into the house, and Father was sitting in the lounge, his expression dark.**

**"Oliver. We need to talk." Ollie paled, and for the first time ever, I saw him tremble. "I saw you in the stables, with that native boy."  He stood up, towering over both of us. I squeezed my brother's hand. He seemed to calm a bit, but still trembled. "You know that is forbidden, Oliver."**

**"Y-yes father, I'm s-sorry." Tears began to streak down my brother's face.**

**"Get out. I will not have a son who is sinful like that." Father raised his voice. Ollie tore from the room, and his footsteps could be heard going up the stairs. "Sarah, you will not see him again."**

**"Father-"**

**"No. What he did was evil and wrong. I will not have that _filth_ in our household."**

**I didn't know what Ollie even did. As Ollie's footsteps came back down the stairs, I, for the first time, disobeyed Father, running to him.**

**"I have ten dollars." I took the cash from my pocket and gave it to him. "What did you do wrong, brother?"**

**He hugged me, and whispered into my ear. "You know Miro? I loved him, and that is a bad, bad thing, Sparrow, but I don't regret it. I have to go now, I love you." He ran out of the house, and I felt one of the butler's arms holding me back from running after my brother, my dear brother.**

**When I turned around, I was among trees. My hands and feet were bound, and Dutch was standing above me, holding a pistol that was pointed directly at me.**

**"You lied to us, to all of us, and we don't like liars in this gang." Dutch pulled the hammer back, ready to fire. I closed my eyes, and I was back in the basement with Arthur.**

**He was beaten over and over again by that man, Colm. He kept going, though, and didn't stop. I screamed into my gag, but I couldn't be heard.**

**Tears were falling down my face rapidly, as Arthur looked at me and smiled.**

**I tried to get out of my bonds, but nothing would work.**

**I was falling, falling, into a deep abyss, and I saw the bodies of Arthur, Ollie, Mother, and Miro, all falling with me. I wanted to save them, but there was nothing I could do.**


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on, there will be the main story of the game woven into the fic. If you are wanting to play it spoiler free, then stop reading, and come back to it once you're on the epilogue. I want this to be a long one, so you should have plenty of time to get there. Seeing as Christmas is coming up, I will have family over and will be working a lot around then too, so this story will be updated less frequently, but hopefully with long chapters like this one. I think this one's round 5000 words, so enjoy. If I don't update until after Christmas, merry Christmas, or happy holidays if you celebrate different holidays at this time of year. I hope that you spend them with someone you love and appreciate, and they love and appreciate you too, and if you have no one - feel free to message me.  
> \- The Author

_Do you wonder where the self resides,_  
_Is it in your head or between your sides,_  
_And who will be the one who will decide,_  
_Its true location._

"Shhh... It's okay, you're okay." A voice calmed me, settled me from my nightmares, and arms wrapped around me, soothing me. When I opened my eyes, ocean ones met mine - a familiar sight by now. "Come on." He moved, and I got up, following him. He went to the beach part of camp, and went along it for a bit, until we reached a nice spot, where a log sat, slowly rotting away.

We sat on it, and realised we were facing East - to watch the sun rise.

"Watching the sun rise every morning helps calm me when I have bad dreams." Arthur said quietly. I noted the use of present tense - though I wasn't surprised. Living the way he does, it would almost be expected. "I had to make a choice, follow what I wanted to do or do what Dutch would have wanted me to do." He paused. "I've slowly become lost, and I think we've all become more ghosts then people, you know?" I nodded. "I don't know who I am anymore, and the choices I've made sometimes come to haunt me." He finished.

I thought for a moment. "Choosing between your head or your heart is difficult. I had to do that, too. All my life, I mostly had to choose my head, because it's what Father wanted me to do, and I always thought he was right. For once, I chose my heart, and I'm here. I don't regret that, but I do regret many other things. Not going with my heart, going with my brother when he left was one of them." I sighed, watching the yellow and orange reflection on the water ripple.

It had been several months since I had joined the gang, and they were managing to stay low, for apparently the first time in a long time. Little did I know, that was about to change. As we walked back into camp, Abigail ran up to us.

"My son, where's my son? Have you seen Jack?" We both shook our heads. "We can't find him anywhere..." She wiped her face with her dress sleeve.

"It's alright, Abigail, I'm sure we'll find him." Arthur attempted to reassure her. It didn't work.

"No one has seen him since last night, when we went to sleep." I patted her shoulder awkwardly in an attempt to comfort her. 

"Sp- Miss Grey and I can go ask around town for you." Arthur offered. 

"That would be great. Thanks Arthur, and Sarah." Her smile was strained as she saw Dutch, and ran over to talk to him. Arthur and I went over to our horses - his brindle Thoroughbred, and my dapple grey Hungarian Halfbred. We mounted, and rode out of camp to the nearby town of Rhodes. People said hello to us, and Arthur did back - I mostly waved my hand in acknowledgement. 

Hitching our horses outside the sheriff's, we entered the building. "Have you seen a small boy, four years old, called Jack?" Arthur asked Sheriff Gray. He shook his head.

"Can't say I have. He gone missing?" He blew out the smoke from his cigarette, his pistol shining silver at his hip. 

"Yeah. If you see him, could you bring him in?" Sheriff Gray nodded, and we left. He didn't overly warm to me, and I was the same with him. 

We went into the saloon, which was full from all the drunkards of the previous night. Many stumbled around, but I overheard some men talking.

"I think Ms Braithwaite has taken that boy from the gang." One of them murmured. "They're trying to play both the Grays and the Braithwaites, but they're the ones being used. They've stolen horses from the Braithwaites and burned the Grays tobacco fields, but hopefully by taking the boy they've learned their lesson." He continued. It was enough for me to grab Arthur's arm and drag him from talking to another man - he was beginning to look menacing. 

"The Braithwaite woman has taken Jack, and they know we're using them. We need to get Jack back and convince Dutch and Hosea to give up on that gold, find money somewhere else." His face darkened. 

"You know they won't like that."

"We don't have a choice." We mounted our horses and got back to camp. We explained to Dutch and Hosea what was happening, and Abigail was relieved we knew where Jack was, and thanked us for finding that out. We would have to wait until everyone got back, however, and would get Jack back tonight. 

I was useless with a gun, but proficient with a bow and arrow. I was frustrated - I wasn't allowed on the rescue mission. That didn't mean I wasn't going to go there beforehand and try to reason with her and get Jack back without killing anyone. "Strauss, I'm going hunting, I'll be back soon." I called out to him. He nodded, and I grinned, quickly walking over to where my stallion, Gris, was hitched to a tree. I mounted him, and left camp calmly, and like I wasn't in a rush. 

I urged Gris into a gallop, and he ran. He wasn't fast, but he had good stamina, and was quite strong and healthy. I slowed as I cantered down the path that lead to the Braithwaite Manor. 

"What're you doing here?" One of the guards standing at the gate to the manor asked me, regarding me with hostility. 

"I need to talk to Catherine Braithwaite. It's important." I said quietly. I didn't bother with the German accent.

"She said nothing about a meeting with anyone." I rode Gris closer to the man, until I was leaning over him. I held my knife to his chest, right over his heart. 

 _"You will let me talk to Catherine Braithwaite before I end up doing something I may or may not regret."_ I murmured. He nodded, stepping back and letting me pass. I continued down the path, until I stopped Gris right in front of the manor. I dismounted, and knocked on the door. Another, this time well dressed man answered.

"What do you want?" He sneered.

"I would like to talk to Miss Braithwaite." I decided to put my German accent back on. 

"She is in her lounge. I will see if she is available. Who is asking?"

"Sarah. Sarah Marston. Jack Marston's mother." I thought that pretending to be his mother would help my case in getting him back. He turned on his heel and marched into another room as I waited in the foyer. 

"Mrs Braithwaite will see you now." He lead me into the room, and there was the woman, and one of her sons I had heard about. She looked worse than Miss Grimshaw. I was gestured to sit on a blue chaise longue, much like the one in the first lounge back home - instead, it was red. 

"Sarah Marston. I don't believe we have met. Why did you interrupt my afternoon tea?" She smiled, but it was in no way sincere.

"I wanted to talk to you about my son, Jack. He went missing last night and I have spent all day looking for him. I was wondering if you may have seen a four year old boy? Or one of your hands?" I copied her insincere smile. Her brown eyes, somewhat sunken into her wrinkly, old face flashed with recognition, but she instead chose to lie.

"No, none of my hands, nor I have seen a young boy recently, have we dear?" She turned to her son, who shook his head.

"I see we will have to take the hard route with this." I said coldly. "I know you have taken my son. Where is he?" I stood up, and stalked over to her.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She insisted. Her son had his rifle in his hands, ready to shoot me if I tried anything.

"Oh, but you do, Catherine Braithwaite." Every word I took a step closer to her. "Tell. Me. Where. My. Son. Is." My voice lowered with each word, and became more threatening as I got closer to her. Then, the clicking of the gun loading made me stop. 

"Don't come any closer, or I will shoot you." The son snarled. I stood still.

"That is quite rude, you know. I want my son back, because  _you_ took him, yet when I come in peace, without weapons, and ask for him back nicely  _you_ threaten to kill me? Just give him back to me now before no one dies." 

"No." She smiled, and I felt a cold ring of metal pressed against my temple. "Shut her in the attic." I was dragged from the room, and up three flights of stairs, before being shoved into a dusty room that I could only assume was the attic. They didn't see any visible weapons on me, but I had a knife hidden in my boot that would come in handy... Hopefully.

I looked around - there were no ways for me to escape unnoticed, and I didn't even have Jack, so I'd have to wait for the others to arrive in the hopes they would come rescue me, or create a distraction so I could break the glass of the window and get onto the balcony - if I did that, it would make noise, and I would be shot instantly. 

Sighing, I slumped onto the floor. I was so bored, I nodded off to sleep.

\------------

Shouting and gunshots were what woke me up. I jolted awake, and tried to figure out what was going on. When I heard Dutch shouting, I grinned, and looked onto the balcony below me. There was one man, shooting down at the gang, who were trying to shoot him but missing him. I took the flat end of my knife handle and smacked it into the glass of the round window, shattering it. I moved through it and shoved the man off the second story balcony. His body hit the ground with a thud, two or three bullet holes in the corpse. 

Turning around, I picked up a pistol from the floor and ran through the house, searching the rooms, kicking down doors. I shot badly, but it meant I wouldn't kill anyone - at least, not instantly. Jack was nowhere to be found, and just as I was about to head downstairs, Dutch, Arthur, and John came up the stairs. 

"I've searched all the rooms here, they're all empty, no Jack." I said before any of them could try to go on about how I shouldn't go off alone, and that I should have brought someone with me. In the few moments of silence, we heard Catherine Braithwaite talking - from below us. Going down the stairs, the boys tried each of the doors, and the one Arthur tried wasn't opening. John joined him, and eventually, they opened it. Inside the room, which was a wonderfully large library, Catherine Braithwaite cowered.

"Where's Jack?" Dutch approached her. 

"I-I don't have him." She snarled. 

"I _said_ , where is Jack?" Dutch sounded more menacing then I had ever heard him before. "You took his son! That's not right!"

"He isn't here, you fool!" 

"Then where  _is_ he?" Dutch shouted. She moved back as he advanced, his pistol drawn, ready to fire. 

Tears streaked down her face. "Angelo Bronte has him. He's an Italian rich man living in Saint Denis." She finally gave up. Dutch dragged her down the stairs, and out the front. The others were there, and they threw fire bottles, setting the manor alight. She was on her knees, in front of it, sobbing. As we got on our horses to leave, due to the heat becoming too strong, I looked back. She ran into the flames, and the sight was saddening.

"Crazy, that's what she is." Arthur said from beside me. I nodded. "But, you shouldn't have gone off like that. You could've been killed." He too sounded angry, and I began having another one of what I called "attacking panic", where I began shaking, sweating, and struggled to breathe. Sometimes I cried, other times I didn't, and my heart pounded. Arthur had gone ahead to talk to John, and I was riding at the back, alone. Gris picked up on my panicking, and began becoming more skittish as a result.

By the time we had gotten to camp, I had hitched Gris to the tree and had gone straight to the sunrise log, as I had called it in my head. I sat, waiting for it to pass. I stayed there for a while, before falling asleep by it. When I woke up, it was just before the sun came up - going to the water, I splashed some onto my face, so it wasn't sticky with tears.

"You're up before me. That's a first." The log creaked under Arthur's weight. 

"It is indeed. I couldn't get much sleep." I murmured, sitting near him, in my usual spot. 

"Well, Dutch wants you to come with us to talk to Bronte about getting Jack back. Your Italian might be useful."

I paused. "So am I Italian now?" I joked. Despite Arthur's anger making me anxious, his presence was calming me, and relaxing me. That only happened with Ollie and Miro - interesting. 

"Maybe. Depends on what Dutch wants you to do. Hopefully another one of his  _great_  plans doesn't go wrong." Arthur muttered, a mixture of sarcasm and bitterness. 

"I better not become a maid or a prostitute. I will stab him myself if he tries to make me do that." 

"I'd help you, gladly." We laughed, watching the water turn into fiery colours again. I was feeling a lot better today, despite being tired. "We'd better get back, I suppose." I got up, and we walked back to camp. We sat at one of the tables, Arthur sketching and drawing in his journal, me "practicing" English by reading a book and occasionally writing words. We were both absorbed into what we were doing, we didn't notice Dutch approach us.

"Arthur! Miss Grey! Can you meet John and I near Bronte's house? It's a big mansion, you can't miss it. You, Miss Grey, will need to go to the tailor and barber's first. Wear something nice, you're a German girl that is Jack's mother, alright? Just listen to the conversation, and pretend to only understand basic English." We nodded, and went to our horses, riding to the smog city of Saint Denis. 

I hadn't been there since I was kidnapped, and the place made me wrinkle my nose in disgust. "I hate cities. The air is awful, and there's no freedom at all." Also, it brought back memories of my father and being like a zoo animal - a wild creature that lives in a cage, but deserves to run free. The horses' hooves clattered against the cobble streets, and I automatically made my way to the tailor's. Though my father had a private tailor for the family, I sometimes went into the tailor's for boots and comfortable clothes.

"I agree, Sparrow. Cities all look the same." Arthur hitched his horse as I hitched mine outside the tailor's. We went into the shop, and I immediately looked at the boots and men's clothing on the shelf. 

"Hi there, how can I help you today?" I sighed in relief - it was the old man who owned the shop, and not the younger male that often was there when I went to purchase... Goods. 

"I would like some nicer dresses. These clothes might be suitable for farming, but not going to parties." I smiled, still in my German accent. 

"Alright. Here's the catalogue, take a look. If you want to try anything on, give me a shout." He disappeared into the back room, and I turned to the dresses section, wrinkling my nose at the items. Most of them looked too gaudy, too over the top - I might have to look at them if I end up being dragged along to a party of some sort. There were some less ridiculous items, but I didn't like any of them. I went for one that was plainer, but still enough to be considered nice. 

The tailor found a dress in my size, and I tried it on. It was tight around the top, but flowed from my hips, and it was made of a fine, dark grey silk. The corset was detailed with roses and other flowers embroidered onto the fabric. I fastened the front of it, and left the small room I changed in, poking my head out. 

"Arthur, can you tie this for me?" I turned around so he could tie it for me. 

"Uhh.. Alright." He simply began to tie the two strings together.

"No, dear, you're meant to pull it tight, and  _then_ tie it." I laughed. He pulled it somewhat tight. "Tighter." He pulled again. "Tighter." I repeated.

"How tight are these things meant to be?" He exclaimed.

"That's enough. Tie it tight." I could already feel my lungs being constricted, and my breathing becoming shorter. I hadn't worn a proper corset in a year, and I was beginning to recall how awful they were. 

"How do women wear those things?" I turned around to face him again, and grimaced. 

"I don't know. I haven't worn one in months, and you can see why." I was breathing shallowly. "I can hardly breathe, and if you wear them often enough, your body changes to fit them. So many women end up fainting in these things on hot days, and die during childbirth because of them. I'm glad I always burned mine when I had the chance." I sighed. "Let's pay for this godawful thing and get out of here." 

"How much was it?" 

"Two hundred." He pulled the money from his satchel and sat it on the table. We left the store, and I was grateful it was long enough to hide the fact I was wearing boots, because I wasn't wearing fancy shoes at all. "Is it alright if we stop at the gunsmith as well?"

"Of course." We lead our horses down the street, and took the second right. We went in, and I got my hair washed and styled nicely - it had grown surprisingly fast, down to my shoulders again - once it was necessary, I would be cutting my hair again. 

We rode to the gunsmith's, and I went into the shop with Arthur. It intimidated me slightly, but Arthur was looking through catalogues, and getting engravings on his weapons. I wandered around the store, smelling the gun oil and wondering what was different about each gun. Some of them were rifles, others repeaters, and shotguns - but they were all the same; they all could kill someone. 

"Alright, let's go." Arthur gently moved me by the small off my back, back out to the horses. I followed Arthur to where we were meant to be waiting for Dutch, and saw him and John sitting on some stairs. 

"You took a while, but Miss Grey, you do look lovely." Dutch smiled, his cheeks a faint tinge of pink. 

"Good. I cannot breathe." I muttered sarcastically, German accent on yet again. All three of the men turned around at once, concerned.

"You don't have to wear that so tightly if you don't want to." Dutch looked concerned. 

"I'll be fine." I rolled my eyes, and linked my arm with John's. He looked confused for a moment, but then recalled the plan, and went along with me. We approached the guards at the gate. 

"We're here to talk to Angelo Bronte. He has my friends' son." He gestured to John and I. The guard scrutinised us for a few moments, and eventually let us in, through the large, black metal gate. Several men holding guns followed us, and I couldn't help but feel tense as we entered the mansion. Going up a flight of stairs, we entered a study, where a man was sitting on a couch.

Several men holding more guns were in the room, and it had a slight haze to the air - several people must have been smoking in the room, without ventilation. The stench filled my nostrils, and I tried not to scrunch my nose in disgust. The man sitting on the couch had dark hair, and dark eyes, with olive skin. He wore a purple bandana around his head, which had some white flower pattern on it.

"Chi sono questi pagliacci? E la bella ragazza?" I immediately didn't like this man -  _who are these clowns? and the pretty girl?_

"Sono venuti per il ragazzo che abbiamo preso." One man answered - at least he was honest.

"Con i soldi?" He was certainly an awful man - asking for money after taking a boy.

"Why did you take their son?" Dutch interrupted, clearly getting impatient. He stepped forward. 

"Excuse me?"

"I said... Why did you take their son?" Dutch gestured to us. "We ain't got no problems with you, sir, nor you with us... but if you start one, there's gonna be a whole lot of folks dead in this room before it's done." Immediately the tension rose, and every man was getting ready to fight. I tried to stay calm, but deep breathing was impossible in the damn corset. Guns were being pointed at us, and I could feel some attacking panic.

"So, you walk into my city, stinking of shit and looking like this, and come into my home before you have a bath - apart from the girl - and tell me how to act?" He looked at me with an intensity I didn't like. "You ask me to show compassion? Have I not already shown you infinite compassion already, by simply allowing you to breathe in my presence?" He was certainly a self-righteous man, and I disliked him. I could see Dutch sigh almost unnoticeably.

"Indeed you have." He walked forward and sat on the couch opposite Bronte. "Now, we are simple country folk. All we have is each other," He explained. "and you have gone, and you have took their son, over some dispute with some inbred ex-slavers." It ain't got nothing to do with any one of us."

Bronte's face darkened. "You had nothing to do with destroying the liquor business?"

"We was innocent bystanders, and that which we weren't innocent of... well, we- we were most surely ignorant of." 

"You, you, you twist words..." Bronte was certainly correct - Dutch had a way with words. "You lie shamelessly, you think you are better then everyone else... Ti amo." He laughed. "Dare a questi uomini e bevande bella ragazza. Angelo Bronte." He shook Dutch's hand, and Dutch began to laugh at Bronte's sudden change of attitude. Dutch introduced us to him, and he shook the men's hands. When he got to me, he kissed my hand. 

"The pleasure is mine, all mine." The way he said it made my insides cold. The three men went to sit on the couch, and there was no room for me. Bronte patted the couch next to him, and I sat as far from him as I could. Drinks were passed around by a butler, and I politely declined. 

"So, can my friends have their son?" Dutch asked, getting straight to the point. 

"Of course, of course. But... should I be out of pocket over a misunderstanding? Of course, I know you would not want that." Dutch, Arthur and John looked at each other.

"No." Dutch eventually answered.

"No, no, of course not, so, how about this? You perform a simple job for me, and you get your son back." Of course we would have to do something for him.

"What is it?" Arthur finally spoke.

"A couple of people have taken to grave robbing in the cemetery."

"That is a fine place for it, the best." Dutch joked, making Bronte laugh.

"I love this guy, I love you." He continued laughing. "These people have not only taken to desecrating the dead, but they've done so without paying a tribute to the living. Thing is, they see my men, of course, they run a mile. So maybe you two head off," He gestured to Arthur and John. "While you, Mister Van der Linde... Can tell me more about my manners." Laughing again. "Miss Grey, you can stay here too." He turned to me, and I tried not to look into his dark eyes. I didn't want to see the emotion there. 

Arthur and John got up, and Arthur and I made eye contact. We nodded at each other, remembering what we were talking about this morning.

"Salute." Bronte said after them. I could see they were glad to get out of there, but I could tell Arthur was hesitant. It made me get up, too.

"I go. Thank you." I said, dipping my head to him. 

"Why don't you stay?" I furrowed my brows, and Dutch said something in Spanish that I assumed was a translation. I paused - black dots were swimming in my vision.

"Ahh... Duties." I mispronounced the word.

"Okay, okay. I hope to see you again sometime." He stood up, and kissed my hand again. I curtseyed, swaying slightly, and left the building as fast as I could. It was dark outside, and I went over to Gris, patting him. He snorted, and I reached behind me, loosening my corset so I could breathe again - I breathed deeply for a few moments, feeling better. I retied it loosely, and mounted Gris, heading towards the graveyard. I saw Arthur's and John's horses, and left Gris by them as I slipped into the cemetery. 

Slinking by the graves by the deceased, I hung near the gates. Then, gunshots rang through the cemetery, and a few moments later, bells began to ring loudly - indicating that the police were arriving soon. I moved closer to the gate, and saw two shadows coming towards me. I recognised them both, and joined them.

"Hello, boys." I grinned, talking normally. When I realised what I had done, I shook my head. John didn't say anything for a few moments. 

"So you're not German?"

"Y-yeah... I can e-explain though." I stammered. I told him what happened that night, several months ago. He, like Arthur, understood what happened. He acted more distant, however, but would forgive me eventually. 

"So you knew, Arthur?" 

"Yeah." I heard them talk quietly, and I continued riding quietly.

"Please don't tell the others." He nodded, and we rode in silence, until we got to Bronte's house. The men went back in, and I stayed outside with the horses. They returned with Jack, and I smiled at him. "Hey, Jack!" 

We rode back, Jack telling us of what Bronte had taught him, and his two days living like I did. He said several Italian words for different things, like slipper, and talked about spaghetti bolognese. 

"That is a good meal, I love it." I could imagine the beef, the pasta, the tomato, garlic and basil taste on my tongue. 

"Papa Bronte taught me Italian. Can you speak Italian, Sparrow?" Jack asked from John's horse. I smiled, remembering telling him he could call me that.

"I can teach you more, if you would like." I grinned. "Like Strauss teaches me English." 

"Papa Bronte said you were very pretty, and he'd like to see you again sometime." Jack said it so harmlessly that I tried not to care too much. John spoke for me.

"Don't call him that. And Miss Grey won't be seeing him again, hopefully." He smiled at me reassuringly. Arthur said nothing, and we rode back to camp in silence, Jack occasionally mentioning something that happened while he was with Bronte. I could see John tensing - he already felt awful about not being good enough for Jack, and Jack was unintentionally making it worse. 

We slowed as we approached camp, and Abigail approached us, hugging Jack and thanking us over and over again. I changed from my dress, into comfortable clothes, and finished my first letter to Ollie. I put it in an envelope, and hid it - I would check tomorrow, and see if they had anything for me, well, whatever my alias was - Alice Brown.


	5. V

_Now when you wake up_  
_Night's falling, someone is by your side_  
_Pull it together, darling you're not alone_

_But when you break up_  
_Sky's falling, no one is on your side_  
_Spoon dirty laundry, darling you're all alone_

 

"You ever been to Tahiti?" Arthur asked me, as we faced the East. The past couple of days so far had been uneventful, and I was grateful for it.

"Can't say I have. I do know that it's the largest island in the French Polynesia, which is east of Australia and West of South America. It's probably warm and tropical there." 

Arthur shook his head. "Well, Dutch wants to get us outta here on a boat there. He thinks we'll become mango farmers or something." He laughed. 

"He always has a plan, doesn't he?" 

"Always." We grinned. "We just need more money, and it's hard to come by." 

"I imagine it would be expensive but it'd be nice, I'd think. You can stop causing so much trouble." I joked.

"I don't know about that, trouble seems to follow me everywhere I go." We laughed again.

Comparing my life from six months ago to now, I would say though I was more concerned about things I never cared for before, I was living a better life now. I taught Jack Italian, and he was an intelligent boy, but was still a boy - which made it more entertaining. I promised him that one day, I would make spaghetti for him, and his face lightened up. He was a young child living a dangerous life, and if Dutch's Tahiti plan worked out, he would live the life he should. The gang were beginning to get to know me, and I even talked to some of the women - Abigail and Mary-Beth I liked the most. I got on well with Sean, Lenny, Charles and Kieran, who all enjoyed my company, and I theirs.

Arthur and I walked back to camp, and decided to head into Saint Denis. We rode slowly, and nothing overly eventful happened as we cantered along. When we got into the city, we slowed to a trot, navigating the streets. As we were riding, a woman called out to Arthur.

"Arthur!" Arthur turned around, and went back towards the hotel, where a woman was hanging from a window. "I'll be right down there!" She called out. We waited, and she emerged from the grey stone building. "Did you get my letter?" She hadn't noticed me. The woman had long dark hair plaited down her back, blue-green eyes, and was wearing a nice looking dark blue dress - clearly had a rich family member. What I was curious about was how Arthur knew this woman.

"Uh, yeah, I did..." His hand went to rub the back of his neck - a nervous habit I noticed.

"Can you help me? Please?" I turned my horse, to continue on. 

"Uh... I guess." Hand was still on the neck. 

"I can go." I murmured to no one in particular, and began trotting away. I could hear the woman talking, and Arthur's voice. I thought about where I wanted to go, and thought about a place I hadn't been in a while. The alleyway.

The faster clatter of horseshoes on the stone made me turn to look - Arthur was catching up to me, woman sitting behind him on his horse. "Hey, Spa-Sarah. I have to help my friend, is that alright? I'll meet you back at camp." I acknowledged him by raising my hand, and he cantered past me. I didn't look at him - the sight of the two made me feel sad, for some reason - I suppose it was jealousy of Arthur having another pretty female friend. Maybe they even cared for each other at some point - I decided to not think about it. 

Dismounting my horse at the alleyway, I smiled. All three dogs wandered up to me, however they were skinnier then before, and dirty. "Hello, guys." I patted them, and gave them meat from my satchel. I was meant to give it to Pearson for cooking, or cook it myself for when I needed it, but the dogs needed it more then I did. I got my horse brush, and brushed the dogs with it as well, like old times. I thought about it for a moment, and figured that the dogs could hang around camp, and they could be useful at some point. "Alright, come on then." I patted my thigh, and when I looked back, Miro had collapsed. "Oh dear." I picked him up, and placed him in front of me on my saddle. The other two dogs looked a lot better, and I rode with them out of the city. 

When I got back to camp, after several breaks and some feeding, I lifted Miro from Gris' back, and took him to a sheltered spot near my tent. There, I tended to a wound on his leg, an abscess of some sort. I drained it carefully, and cleaned it. "Good boy, Miro." I patted him, as he whined. "Poor dog." 

"Dogs!" Jack exclaimed, coming over to pet them.

"Yes, Jack, dogs. This is Atlas, Atlantic, and Miro. Be careful with Miro, he's injured." I warned him. He petted each of the dogs. "They're all strays, hopefully we can keep them."

"I hope so. I like dogs." He smiled. 

"I like dogs too. I've known these ones for nearly a year, and tried to look after them. My father didn't want me to have street dogs." I sighed. Atlas and Atlantic were sniffing Jack, and Atlas, the friendlier one, licked his face. Jack giggled. 

"That tickles." He sat with me, petting the dogs. I passed him a stick to throw for the dogs, and they went and brought it back to us. We went down to the lake and got buckets of water to bath the dogs, with some soap I found, and Jack helped me. We were busy rinsing Atlas when Hosea approached us. 

"Hello, Miss Grey- Oh, you've found dogs." He grinned, patting Atlantic on the head. He was usually more timid, but he seemed to like Hosea. 

"Can we keep them, Uncle Hosea?" Jack asked.

"Of course. They could be useful." He smiled at us. "Miss Grey, Bronte has invited us to a party, and we need to get you something fancy again... Well, fancier. Important people will be there and we need to make connections, and you know a lot about art and literature, so you can hold a conversation with men or women if you wanted to... Also your languages could come in handy." I nodded, turning to face Jack and the dogs.

"Tell Abigail if Miro looks sore to take off his bandage and look at his abscess. Also, feed the dogs a small amount of meat later on tonight, okay Jack? Not too much, or they'll be sick." He nodded, young face serious as Hosea and I walked away. 

"We'll be meeting Arthur at the tailor's. He needs to get a suit, and I have already gotten you a gown for tonight." We mounted our horses once again, and we rode into Saint Denis, back to the tailor. Arthur approached us outside, and we walked in together.

"Hello again!" The older man was there again. 

"Hello. I need to get my friends here spruced up for a party, I ordered a dress under Sarah Callahan?" The man nodded, and placed a white box onto the desk. "Arthur, look through the catalogue, and choose a suit." I held the box, waiting for Arthur to get changed into the suit he had chosen. When he emerged, he looked so uncomfortable I laughed. 

"Your face..." Tears streaked down my face as I doubled over, wheezing. 

"Hey!" He gently shoved me towards the changing room. "You get changed." I went in, and when I opened the box, I had mixed feelings - it was exactly like a dress my father had made me wear, but a deep purple instead of a pale pink. It was certainly expensive - and it brought back memories of the one party I attended and actually somewhat enjoyed. 

**As I ran my eyes over the titles of the novels in the library, I was approached by a young man, around my age.**

**"You read?" I turned around, surprised, and nodded. I stopped at a title that caught my eye - 'Heart of Darkness'. "That's an alright one, I didn't enjoy it too much." He found another book and handed it to me. "This one is a nicer read." I took the book - 'The Awkward Age'.**

**"T-thanks." I nodded my head to him.**

**"You're very welcome. Do you like art and music as well?"**

**"I do indeed."**

**"Can you play any instruments?" We walked from the library, to the music room.**

**"Piano, cello, some violin, some guitar."**

**"I play piano, flute, oboe and trumpet. You must be incredibly talented." He grinned at me. I could feel my face go slightly red.**

**"No, I'm not that good. You must be more talented."**

**We walked into the room. I sat at the piano, while the male found a flute. Eventually, we were playing several songs together - and having the time of our lives. "Well, I must go. Father will want me home soon." He looked mildly disappointed.**

**"Alright. Shall I walk you home, then?" He held out his arm. I took it. We left the party, and as we walked home, we discussed philosophy.**

**"That's my house, just ahead." We stopped by the front door.**

**"I will say, Miss... Oh dear, I didn't even introduce myself. I'm Newt Lancastor."**

**"Sarah Grey." We shook hands, and laughed.**

**"I hope to see you again, Miss Grey. I know few women who are as knowledgeable as you." He smiled at me.**

**"T-thank you."**

I gestured for Arthur to once again tie up the corset. He did it, but I made him tie it tighter then before.

"Ah, Miss Grey, you look lovely." Hosea smiled, nodding at me. "Arthur, you have the camp funds?" Arthur nodded, and pulled a smaller bag from his satchel. I narrowed my eyes but didn't say anything - last time we were in here, he seemed to take money directly from his satchel. Did he pay for that dress with his own money? I decided to keep an eye on him when he bought things - maybe he didn't have the time to put it in the smaller bag, and simply grabbed it and put it in there.

"Thank you for your business." The tailor smiled at us as we left, again. We went to the barber's, this time for Arthur. He had his hair slicked back with some pomade, and had his hair cut shorter.

"I never thought I would see you with your hair slicked back like a gentleman."

"Are you implying I'm not a gentleman?" 

"I suppose so." 

"I think I'm more of a gentleman then some of the others in camp." At the same time, we muttered "Micah."

"Micah is far from it. How can Dutch have him around? He's rude to everyone but Dutch, and has said awful things to Charles, Lenny, and Javier, as well as the women." I remembered what he said to Charles once - I nearly blew his head off, there and then. 

"I want him gone, too. Dutch, for whatever reason, seems to like him, so he stays. As much as everyone else hates him, Dutch might not care." He looked down, seeming quite sad.

"Dutch is certainly an interesting man. He seems so charismatic, but when you begin to look past it, he seems to be the kind that will do anything to achieve his goals." We stopped outside the hotel we were supposed to be meeting at, and both Hosea and Dutch were waiting outside. 

"Hello, you two. My, my, you look wonderful, Miss Grey." Dutch smiled. 

"I think Arthur looks better then I." I grinned at Arthur beside me. I could have sworn his cheeks went a light shade of pink. 

"Arthur, you do look good. Maybe you could fit into high society after all." Hosea patted him on the shoulder, and we entered the saloon.

The saloon was quite fancy, and the haze of cigarette smoke was in the air. It made me cough, and I tried to ignore the prostitutes who were batting their eyes and covering half their faces with fans in an attempt to seem alluring to Arthur and Dutch. The three men got drinks, and we found a table to sit at. Dutch told us of his plan for the party in hushed tones.

"We are going to try and get ourselves some acquaintances. Miss Grey, I would appreciate it if you could translate everything you can, and try to overhear conversations for anything interesting. If anything interesting does come up, tell me." We all nodded, and started talking lightly for a few hours. Eventually, I had to get outside, and I excused myself. Arthur followed me.

"You alright?"

"I suppose. I just had to get outside, that air was awful. Not that out here is much better." 

"Fair enough." We walked, side by side, down the street, in comfortable silence. That was what I liked about Arthur - you didn't have to talk to him. Just being in his presence was pleasant, and I only had that with my brother. We could sit side by side, reading our books, and still have a good time, or in Arthur and I's case, Arthur sketching in his journal and I plucking the guitar, or reading a book. 

We crossed the street, and wandered along, absorbed in our own thoughts. 


	6. VI - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back,  
> Back again,  
> Theo's back,  
> Tell a friend (if you want).
> 
> Here's a short chapter (part 1 of 2), finally! I've managed to finally get over writer's block, so here's a sub-par short chapter to get started. Friday is gonna be great, as for English we're going on a trip 2 1/2 hours away to a writing festival, and Markus Zusak is going to be there! I am looking forward to it, because a 12 hour trip and day off school to meet a really cool author? Yes please! Hopefully I can ask him more efficient ways to get over writer's block, instead of just waiting it out, heheh. Enjoy, friends.

_It's got nothing to do with fate,_

_And everything to do with you._

"Sorry sirs, weapons are not allowed in the party. Hand them over." The three men looked at each other, handing their pistols to the guard, who placed them into the large lockbox. "Bronte wanted to see you, so if you could follow Luca over there." He gestured to a dark haired man in an all white suit. I linked my arm with Arthur's, and we all followed the butler through the large and lavish mansion. It was made of white stone, presumably marble, and had grey statues everywhere, red rugs with gold accents. Father would have loved this interior decoration. Bill and Hosea split from us, going to the main party while the rest of us continued following the butler. 

We ended up on a balcony, where Bronte greeted us. I stayed silent the entire time, while he went on about important guests at the party. I paid little attention, and was focused on a familiar shape down at the party. I didn't expect for Father to be here - he barely attends parties. He oftentimes called them pointless. Bronte must have said something to me, because Arthur elbowed me gently. 

"Sorry." 

"That's alright, dear. I asked if you want to stay up here for some time?" 

"No, thank you." I pretended to smile at him.

"Are you sure?" I nodded, and slowly began to turn, hoping to indicate to Arthur I want to go. He got the message, and nodded to Dutch. 

"Thank you for inviting us to this party, Mr Bronte." We turned and left, and I let out the breath I didn't realise I had been holding. All I had to do now was avoid Father when possible. We joined Hosea and Bill, who were standing by the entrance to the garden.

"Right. Arthur, Bill, Hosea, Miss Grey, keep an eye out for anything interesting. If you find something, tell me. Enjoy yourselves." He flashed a grin and left us all standing there.

"See you later." Hosea and Bill left also, joining into conversations, leaving Arthur and I alone.

"We better blend in. We stick out like a sore thumb." I grinned. 

"Alright." I took his arm again and we set off to find a conversation to join. I knew that the only person outside of the gang that would recognise me instantly was Father - everyone else would have forgotten me. A conversation that was happening fully in French intrigued me, and I dragged Arthur over to it. A group of three men were talking about literature, and one of my favourite books.

"Cette histiore est bonne." 

"Je suis d'accord." A male with dark eyes agreed with me. 

"J'ai si vulgaire. j'ai oublié de nous présenter. C'est Arthur Callahan, et je suis Sarah Callahan. Il est bon de vous rencontrer. Il ne parle pas Français." I introduced us, and we all laughed at Arthur, looking entirely clueless.

"It is good to meet you both. Are you interested in literature, Mister Callahan?" Dark eyes asked.

"Not really. Sarah is the smarter of us." His face softened for a moment. 

"Well, I may like literature, but Arthur is an artist. I couldn't draw to save my life!"

"What do you draw, Mister Callahan?" One of the other men spoke, this one older and with a lot of grey hair.

"Lots of things. Buildings, animals, plants, the land, sometimes people." 

"His sketchbook is wonderful to flip through-" Banging erupted from the sky, however I didn't flinch. Turning to the source, I admired the fireworks set off. Arthur edged towards something, and I moved with him. 

He moved suddenly, and he dragged us both to Dutch. "I heard servants talking about Cornwall, and I'll go tail them. Sarah, stay here." I nodded - though I certainly wouldn't. 

I waited for a few moments after Arthur left, and then I began to tail Arthur, catching sight of him a few times. I kicked my shoes off, and followed him to an office, where he was rifling through the ledger. I slunk in after him, and he went to aim a pistol that wasn't there at me. 

"Sarah! I told you to wait downstairs!" He hissed. 

"I came up here to help you! What if you got caught?"

"I'd get out of it-" Footsteps cut him off, as he hid under the desk. "Sarah!" He hissed as the door opened, and I stood in front of the desk. Arthur's foot was visible if one looked close enough.

"Miss, you're not allowed in here." The butler Luca was calm, but it was like the calm before the storm. 

"Sorry, sir. I was... Finding lavatory. Can you show me?" 

"Of course." He smiled insincerely, and we left the office, down to the lavatory.

"Thank you. I am very sorry." I nodded to him and entered the lavatory for a short amount of time before leaving again. I went back to the party, where Dutch, Bill, Hosea and Arthur had regrouped. I joined them, and tried not to cry when I saw Arthur's expression.

"Sarah, you-"

"You would have been caught, Arthur." 

"She's right." Hosea agreed with me. "Now let's get out of here." We left the party, the men collecting their guns from the lockbox, and we got a carriage ride to a hotel, where our horses were hitched. We rode back to camp, Arthur telling us what he had learned as we cantered back. The night was cooler outside the city, but at least there was clean air again. I didn't bother listening - I could blame it on tiredness and get him to tell me another time. 

I slid from my horses' back and immediately went to my tent to change. When I managed to undo my corset, my chest and stomach were in pain, and I quietly felt tears slide down my face. Once I had changed back into my comfortable clothes, I went back out to my horse, who I had named Luna, and groomed her, making sure she was as clean as I could get her. When I was done, I fed her a treat and buried my face in her neck, and seeming to understand my sorrows, she turned her head so that she nuzzled my back, making me chuckle. 

"Good girl." I grinned, placing her saddle on the hitching post beside her. When I heard panting, I knew it was Atlas, Atlantic close on his heels, and I went to pat the dogs. They were looking a lot better now, having been fed daily, and finally were clean. I was told by Charles that they were quite useful at tracking, and were helpful when he needed them. Miro was lying down, in front of John's tent - guarding Jack, I presume. Miro liked to sit by Jack or Abigail - though I knew he wanted nothing more than to go with Charles and the other two dogs hunting, even though he'd not be a natural, he liked to wander, and sometimes herded and protected the other two dogs, like a flock of sheep. Clearly he thought like this with them too.

I sat with the three dogs for a bit, and remembering the old days. All four of us seemed happier now, out of the city. After some time, I stumbled into my tent, falling asleep as soon as I fell on my bedroll. 


End file.
